Nag nag nag

So... what am I supposed to take pictures of now? One can only take so many photos of Sydney Harbour. #getmeoutofhere

If home is where the heart is, then my heart is in two different places

Madrid. Taken from our apartment balcony.


I just arrived home after being in Madrid for two nights. By home, I mean Logroño. It was a weird sensation feeling at home in a place other than Sydney. It’s official. I’ve settled.

As much as I miss home, I haven’t felt home sick per se.

So back to Madrid. As much fun as I had, the city isn’t for me. I guess because it reminded me a lot of Sydney. Big, and commercial, fast paced with fast food.

This payphone is proudly brought to you by KFC.

I went with five friends and we were scolded what felt like every five minutes. We were shopping the first time it happened. Three of the girls took a photo while inside a store, and were told off by the sales assistant.

The second, third and bajillionth time it happened, we were in an art museum. Sometimes you were allowed to take photos, as long you didn’t use flash. Take two steps forward into another room and suddenly you weren’t allowed to take photos at all. When it came to seeing Picasso’s Guernica, you were allowed to stand a few metres away from the painting and observe it, but if you wanted to take a photo you had to step back and do it from outside the doorway. We learnt all these things by getting told off.

The final time it happened I was at Madrid’s famous El Rastro flea market. I took a photo of some antique coins, and the stall-holder (an old, cranky man) literally smacked me on the arm and yelled at me (in Spanish), saying that I deserved to be slapped. Conclusion: when in Madrid you’re better off not taking any photos.



We had a crazy night out on the second day. This picture pretty much sums it up. Let’s just say the night started with three beautifully intact flowers, and finished with a flower, a stem and a straw.



What I'm going to miss about Madrid though, are the art museums. Rembrandt, Miro, Renoir, Picasso, and Dali. I saw them with my own eyes, and stood as close to the canvases as the artists them selves once did.

Picasso's Guernica

Love, Noeline
xox